23.1

the time has come
to return home
and we say our goodbyes
over McDonalds breakfast
and one last trip to the river

i shall carry you with me
as mirrors tucked into my pocket
gentle reminders
that even when apart
your spirits shine through
from behind my eyes

23.2

an orange X
upon the door
the number 3
at willies house
broken windows and
broken homes
on a street of
broken dreams

some things never change
in a neighborhood built
on a foundation of stagnation

24.1

champion of darkness
i long to
creep inside your head
marinate in your thoughts
until they
seep into my subconscious

i want to understand
what makes you tick
read the fundamentals
of your story
trace the maps of your journey
so i know the direction
from which to approach you

King,
i've never been intrigued like this before
i want to write you like
science fiction
send our bodies to outerspace
and birth new civilizations
from our union
i want to
boldy go
where no woman has before
get lost in the caverns of your mind
and recline on secrets
you have never shared

just open the door
and i will gladly cross the threshold
trade in reality
to exist solely as your fantasy
a single star
stuck in orbit around your sleeping frame
shining my light as a reminder
that you are never alone.

24.2

you are the soundtrack
of my days
my minnie ripperton
in mornings first light
my bill withers
that gets my day right
... lovely
you got me hummin stevie
all night long
fuck a hip hop song
you are soul music
the rhythm of my blues
that puts the jazz in my step
and i dont think you know this yet
but i dance to you
twist around in circles
with your smile in my eyes
realize
you are the entire collection
of al green
from the love and happiness you bring
to the tenderness when your
defenses are down
and the slow moans
when im
so tired of being alone
boy you are the song
thats stuck on repeat
the notes that guide my days
and the words that write all the ways
i love to love your music.

25.1

there are secrets in here
locked between the lines
disguised in clever metaphors
i pray you dont comprehend

you shouldnt know these things

for i have bled out my soul
mixed it in with the day to day
of mundane lives
broke open
and let the words flow out
a truth too strong
for your ears to swallow

you shouldnt know these things

feelings locked in cages
submerged under an ocean of tears
and fears
for i trust the strength of your hands
only so much as they can carry
the smallest part of my heart
place the rest in poems
to be buried under the senseless rambles
hidden away
should the day come
when we are
strong enough
to hold each other up

*maxwell


25.2

numbers will never be revealed
but
what i can say, however, is this...
fifteen in the first
and sixteen thus far
offered up as wishes
to a solitary star in the
endless night
that has clouded my vision.
thirty one wishes
blown out like candles
on birthday cakes
not to be spoken of
for fear they will not
come to pass.

and i suppose
this makes thirty two...

... i promised you
thirty seven reasons
long before my days
were measured out in poems
and its taking me quite a while
but please believe
i always deliver

26.1

i am silent
only when i
fear the magnitude of my words
spilling over as water
boiling in the pot
i'm stirred up
and steaming
and youre about to be scalded

26.2

cat scratch fever
is the feeling
of nails dug into back
teeth bared and biting at shoulders
ill strip your wings off
make you fly with me
far above the sleeping city
the give and take
of our
bodies' conversation
leaves no room for words
be silent
let me talk to you
with the arch of my back
and curves of knees
over your shoulders
flipping scripts
too full grown
for this young audience to handle

27.1

god why cant you just
learn to fly for once
step from the ledge
let go my hand
and trust that fate will return you
to me
if i could show you the world
that spreads just beyond your
scope of vision
would you risk it?
would you
have the courage to chase?
my love
the safe road is that of cowards
and the scenery
is a poor substitute
for the paradise of my dreams

27.2

recline, sweet prince
rest your weary hands
and allow the senses to play audience
to my performance
let me be Salome
and drape you with veils
body swaying to the music of seduction
a solo slow grind
in tune with the rhythm of your
heightened pulse
close, but never touching
my lips press whispers into your ears
spinning the stories of Scheherazade
deep into the night
i want to sing for you
like some rare exotic bird
trapped in the cage of your eyes
spilling songs of bodies
wrapped in the notes of passion's throes
skin steaming the scent of jasmine
that pulls at your nose like the softest of fingers
let me feed you,
my God,
place morsels of ambrosia
on the tip of your tongue
to savor the sweetness of skin
i cant bear to give you
my curves burn for the delicacy of your touch
and these hands yearn
to trace the outlines of flames
across your canvas
i've become a volcano for you
lava quaking under the surface and ready to explode
should you dare risk even the slightest stroke

28.1

there are times
when the facade of niceties
threatens to crack
and i want to write a poem
about bullshit.
unleash a slew of obscenities
deviod of pretty metaphors
and similes
call the world a stage
and point out the mistakes
of its players
dealing hands full of
save face cards
its not that hard
to read between lines
but why bother
when sticks and stones
weigh like heavy reminders
in my pockets



29.1

hey mr. tambourine man
where is it youre going
and can i
meet you
at that destination?
carry your baggage
lighten your load
and
let wings fly
beyond the glass ceiling of
present situations

mr tambourine man
can we
play a duet
turn bodies into
piano keys
and pound out songs
deep into the morning
i promise
i'll follow your lead
sketch notes across the moon
and bend
under the spell of your voice

mister, see i
marvel at the mysteries
tied up in the melodies
of your gaze
and the night is short
but
hours can stretch like forever
if you'd just
play a song for me

*some lines loosely inspired by bob dylan's mr. tambourine man


29.2

face down and
drowning in brackish water
there are words
for this sentiment
but all i can muster up is
acephalous
chest cavity hollow
remembering the echoes
of what once beat
so strongly
its seeping into the lungs
and i choke on
should'ves and would'ves
as the ticking clock
explodes time bombs
in my ear

30.1

jezebel
behind the painted mask
what secrets
does your smile hold?
for i have
come to learn
that when it flashes,
there is trouble
waiting to be had
just around the corner

30.2

hey there, friend
have we
grown so far apart
you do not recognize
my voice?
forgive me
for making you bend
in ways
you were never meant to
for sacrificing your sanctity
for the sake of applause
i never intended
to leave you so vulnerable
naked, on stage
in front of a packed house
these days
will no longer be numbered
and you
can go back to
breaking in pieces
on your own
once again.

the end.

july 26th-aug1st.2008

15.1

it became
enunciation
broken down like syllables
could the writing on walls
be any clearer?
wipe off the glasses,
baby girl,
you saw the faces
banded together
peering in from windows
to watch as you slept
a question mark
curled around a shadow
ghosts make for strange bedfellows
and leave very little
to hold on to.

15.2

kissing fists and
bared teeth behind
hungry lips
they fight like wolves
primal
strangling breath
trapped in throats
asphyxiation is so
sexy.
slap of fingers against flesh
red outline of palm
against a milky canvas
evidence of their passion
worn like battle scars on the skin
drink it all in
insatiable and ravenous
bodies twisting
against the tension
wound up tight and
ready to ignite
fireworks blooming under fingertips
their union is
explosive

16.1

temporary
like placeholders
carry the
one
multiplied by any number
is still itself
when bullshit equations
just dont add up
divide the time
into boxes
that separate the real
from answers
that are nothing more than
miscalculations

16.2

i shall speak to you of dreams
promises wrapped in bullet proof houses
the sacred sanctity of my voice
turned the steady blinking of the lighthouse
a beacon
through the storms that twist
and turn
let me guide you home
when the night is long and
stars have hidden their faces
i will come to you
unmasked
arms outstretched and
waiting
for you to take my hand


17.1

i am houston
and you have become atlanta
but shortly after midnight
on Sunday
we are new orleans
once again
i feel you
like the mighty mississippi
as we recreate
sunday jazz
in jackson square
within the humidity
of this place

twist away the sterile walls
and replace them with history
streets filled with stories
i walk down yours
awaken the sleeping pulse
of a city
that rests deep within my bones
you are primitive
hungry
and i am remembering
what it feels like
to be alive

17.2

we have returned home
distance and time
erased and replaced
by laughter
forkfuls of food
and margaritas
the size of our heads

sisters
we will never be confined
by the boundaries
of time and space
our bond, unbreakable
for we have broken bread
over broken hearts
and break downs
a thousand times before

and shit like that
forges bonds
that will never be challenged

18.1

chameleon sitting
at the corner of the bar
when you met me
you were
sean, and a professor
at the nearby university
to my friend you were
Patrick, a real estate developer
and to yet another, Arthur,
the owner of a hotel.

but bartenders always pour the truth
straight up like i take my vodka
and as glasses get filled
you become Tony
the drunk,
known by all for a good story
and very little else.

18.2

1,000 educators pouring out like ants
from the convention center
in search of
the dirtiest martinis
the largest margaritas
and anything else to drown out
our sense of
civic responsibility

i watch us
drunk and stumbling
pressed up against walls
into chairs
and eventually
into each other
cant help but laugh
at the fact that we
are responsible
for shaping the future of america

19.1

tonights discussion
was centered on
the teaching of empathy
and it took every last bit
of decorum
to keep me from
reaching across the table
and snatching out your tongue
with my fork
you spoke of how you
removed the desks
and
kept the AC off
to teach our babies
what its like to
'go to school in Africa'

take the blinders off, son
have you ever
sat on the threadbare pillows
that serve as furniture
in Yvonne's house
bought Daniel a booklight
and a constant supply of batteries
so he can do his homework
when the electricity is out
have you
smuggled out all the extra pizza
prioritizing the recipients
by how many
hungry siblings waited at home

i thought not
you're preaching to the wrong audience,
teacher.
so please dont be offended
when i ask
if you
keep your electricity off at home
pull together
cafeteria leftovers
for your nightly meal
and choose the floor over the bed
because you'd rather not share
with three younger brothers
just so, you know,
you can see what its like to
'go home in the fifth ward'

19.2

the shelf life
of second choices
is much shorter than
one would expect.

watch your step
the expiration date
is growing nearer.



2o.2

in the darkness of the crowded floor
strong hands seek out my waist
his rhythm
becoming the answer
to every question my body poses
mental music slows our movements
as the room begins to spin
entranced by the romance
of his arms
tucked under mine
back pressed into chest
head reclined on shoulder
we adopt the fluidity of water
become the ebb and flow of tides
lapping at sands
of the island we have created
floating within the sweaty sea
of faceless bodies in motion


21.2

i love you
for all the wrong reasons
and just as many of the right ones
for everything you hate of yourself
and all the little things you accept

i hug all your imperfections
to my chest
kiss them as if they were
my children
because even when you're ugly
i find you beautiful
and when you're crazy
you still manage to bring me peace
dont know what you have hidden in your fingers
that turns all you touch to gold
but im enjoying getting richer
with every second of your presence

22.1

i write lists
to keep me sane
compartmentalize thoughts into
manageable chunks
lists in notebooks
on the back of reciepts
torn napkins and
the backs of my hands
i type lists
into cell phones
and computers
send myself emails
of lists to remind me
i write in list poems and
think in bullet points
but never take the time
to check things off

22.2

if i were the ancient mariner
you would be my albatross
clinging tightly to a neck
that has no time for such jewels

cant help but pity you
in your brokeness
a poor excuse for a man
whose wings have long since
been clipped